


Sixth seal broken

by sadfuckboy



Category: Riverdale - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Obsessive Behavior, yancore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadfuckboy/pseuds/sadfuckboy
Summary: In his cold, rotten and chained hands he wants to hold Archie. Hold him like a mother holds a young child. Fully in control and knowing more than Archie could ever even imagine.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones
Kudos: 7





	1. epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> In which Jughead is a socially ostracised, manipulative weird kid who has a possessive, stalkerly and toxic obsession with Archie, who grew into megapopularity just like in the show, but holds the hidden anger issues and social blindness a caricature like him is bound to hold.

You know, blood is such a cliche. It’s easy to create melodrama and cheaply grotesque imagery out of blood. You slice for yourself, you slice for other people. Blood dripping down is the ultimate symbol. and you get to choose what it means! Through birth through brotherhood. deals and bonds most strong are formed in blood. Talking about it, putting symbols on it was so useless and tacky. Yet there he was. Riverdale’s own self proclaimed scum fuck poet. Tearing his arm open with a fillet knife and letting red drop down on paper covered with scribbles.

Giving into dark magic, believing in dark magic is weak. It is for the weak of heart to make their business into something else’s business as well. No deity is there to serve or save you. Yet it had always called out to him. Not that a human can ever truly know if the pull is coming from outside or just from the bottom of their own mind. He didn’t even have a bottom or if he had he couldn’t find it from under all the skatter and trash. So it could really just be him. Nevertheless.

The spell on the paper wasn’t based on anything existing, it came to him. A strange sense of comfort, even though it’s contents were malicious.   
He was a man of peace. In no way did he think he deserved something more than someone else. But anger is a strong emotion. Jealousy.. the strongest!

Written on the paper was a declaration of universal ownership of one person. No matter the blondie no matter the brunette. No girl could ever take Archie Andrews’ heart.


	2. Revelations

9:03 on a monday morning. Three minutes late to class. Jughead was throwing up in the school bathroom. Greasy hair sticking to his wet and cold forehead, longest strings just barely pulled behind his ear. Annoyed, furious at the situation. He’d tried everything. Coming in drunk. Not eating. Not sleeping. Trying to wore himself out. Eating too much. Doing nothing but resting. Yet the mental stress of a starting school week always tore his stomach into a mess. It was humiliating to be slave to your own brain and body. 

He leaned back to rest his head on the closed stall door. Trying to even his breath. 

Finally he could feel the wave of anxiety lightening. grabbing on to that moment of calmness. He started to touch the tips of his fingertips, one after the other, concentrating his brain on that alone. Bringing him back to himself, back to his surroundings and back to rational emotions.

He checked the time. 9:16. Letting out a deep sigh but already getting up. Slow drag of his palms against the sticky wood and strain in his knees on the way up. He checked his outfit and listened for a moment to make sure the room outside was empty otherwise. None of his zippers were open and there were no sounds coming from outside the stall. Picking his bag from beside the toilet and stepping outside. He headed straight to the mirror. 

It was always a stopping experience to see his self reflected. He was the kind of person who had no mirrors in his room. The kind of person who looked through a shop window and not at his own image in the surface. The kind who existed in the world as a watcher, not as watched. Dipping his gaze into the sunken eyes and cheeks, old acne scars and dark features, falling into them for a long moment. There was a face under all that, but if someone could cypher how it looked like he was definitely not that person. He didn’t know whether his face was round or angular, handsome or hideous. It just was. And no matter how much he stared at it, it just stayed a weird shifting mass. 

Coming down from his thoughts he noticed a peck of saliva and puke at the corner of his mouth. Reaching quickly for a handful of paper. Right on that moment the door fell open. His eyes flashed to look through the mirror at it. Fast as a startled prey animal at a waterhole.

All the blood in his body moved at the same time. 

Soaring and making him froze in his place to not pass out. Waves of dread and blood roaming under his skin. His heart beat so fast it started to hurt and it made him so angry this was the reality of his body. The first impact always made him immobile for an eternity. Lacking all capability to process emotions born from the horrid mix of dread and obsession. 

He couldn’t raise his gaze from the sink but he knew who he had seen when he peeked at the door. 

Paralysis falls upon other men in front of the son of god. Dumbass jock pecs the size of dinner plates. Tight white tee, wings wrapped around a halo. Presence and aura so strong it burns the skin but doesn’t warm you.  _ Archie. _

He stopped for a moment. Looking at Jughead’s hunched frame by the sinks. Pitch black clothes turning him into a shadow or a void in contrast to the white tiles of the bathroom.

”Hey.” Archie’s low voice roamed deep in his chest. Surprised but casual in a way impossible for Jughead.

_ And his voice as the voice of many waters.  _

There’s a lot to say about the revelations. Torn of the land and the apocalypse. Mostly the fact that it all starts with saviors, with a _ fear not _ .

Jughead flinched. Hiding his gaze away, unable to catch Archie’s eyes but acknowledging his presence. “Hey.” his voice was barely audible. He hated this so much. The sense of dread was horrible, yet suffocatingly addicting. 

Looking at the hall pass in his right hand, massive piece of pink carboard, and the absence of anything resembling it in Jughead’s arms, Archie had to ask. “Is everything okay?” 

Jughead was silent. Mind frozen in time and fully unwilling to lay himself bare even just a little for a person he craved yet did not trust the slightest. Pulling the piece of paper to his lips and wiping away the last drops of rotten food. Trying to get back in control of himself.

Archie, like an idiot, took that silence as a clue to poke further. Why do kids grown to be “nice people” have to be like that? Jughead just wanted to be able to move his feet again.

”I mean.. class started some time ago dude.” He tried to reach Jughead’s face but got nothing but the black void of the crying sculls painted on his jacked.

”I too, can read the clock Archie Andrews.” As always his voice dripped with mal-intent and sarcasm even when he aimed to be neutral. At some point in his life he couldn’t keep up with the other kids who learned to talk to each other. His heart used all its might to move amongst the suffocating dread in his chest. Tension in the room just kept on tightening.

Archie was taken back but just let out an annoyed sigh. “Whatever man. Just wanted to make sure.” And moved to the urinals. Settling on the one closest to Jughead, who tried his best not to mind and try focus on cleaning his face. Even when his whole body screamed, trembling in sync with the _aaaaaa_ bouncing off of his insides. His side closest to archie burned from the heat of his aura. He ran a hand across it, to make sure he wasn’t actually on fire.

Jughead’s hands shook as he turned the tap on out of bathroom etiquette. Sound of the water drowning all others. Or so he hoped.

“Why do you hate me Jones?” Archie dropped, like he had permission, like they were that close. Like his feelings about him mattered. Like he didn’t like them negative. Like it was personal.

Jughead didn’t flinch at that _._ Finally. He had heard that question so many times it had dried out. It lacked any spike it must hold to others. To others who still believed they could deserve relationships. There was no need to connect to others, you just needed to learn how they worked.

And he knew. How Archie worked. They’d known each other since the crib, but at the peak of a person’s life, the pre-highschool youth, they had rolled down the hill of life on completely different sides. Never connecting the same again. 

Archie landed feet first into blasting fanfare, to the forefront of riverdale, crying girls in the crowd lining his way. Baseball team he was too good for. So he tried football which dominated the sports scene in town and promised a omnipotent identity for him to own. Quarterback, sweat rolling down his arms mixed with ichor. Electroluminescence from the field light framing the grimrose locks of the chosen one. He didn’t know his place in the world, because his place had never been bad. He didn’t know a friend from foe, because they had all always been his friend. He didn’t know right from wrong, because he had never been told he was wrong. He knew nothing, yet he knew all.

Jughead smashed straight to a ditch at the crook of the hill. Literally, as the shells of his former friends threw him there after he stepped out of line. That’s really all he did when younger, stepped out of line. On purpose and by just being, he annoyed and disgusted to feel apart of it all, until it became all he could do, all he was. Rot digging and spreading into him from under his fingernails and from the back of his ears, until it consumed and became a part of him. Swallowed him, corrupted him, like a fucked up hentai creature. And then he just was, a monster, unable to change. So he adapted. Learned to navigate his twisted form out of sight in public. Learned to still get things, when they weren’t anymore given to him. Learned to compensate. Learned to weaponise hate and monetize disgust. Learned to win.

_ I don’t hate you Archie.  _ “There’s no reason.” He started. And danced around him like a witch. Feeling returning to his fingers. It was interesting, how some people had nothing behind their words, their words were all they wanted to say, all they thought about. Jughead never told his real thoughts. He told lies and spewed spells. Without strain the most infuriating thing always rolled off his tongue. Nothing more dangerous than a jester without a king.

It took Archie a moment to process. To first hear the line, then let it roll into his head, mush into his tissues and only then start to think. Until he could realise that it wasn’t a no. And then get mad. It was mad, not sad. And dirty things like that always exited Jughead. His form stiffed, switching his weight from one leg to another.

Archie was silent. Brooding in his straught lined mind. Aura dark next to Jughead’s shivering body that held atrocities and malice inside it. Slowly warping into a plan. Energy that flowed like a wave. Awake finally to a new morning. 

_ Afraid. _ But with the feeling itself not being in control, because he treated his fear like a drug, like a pill he could pop and ride the high of.

A zipper sound. Line drawn in the air a massive curve. Archie let out a deep sigh. But none of it let out the tension in his frame. Jughead saw the way he tried to pretend to be calm. Master of himself, of the situation.  _ A nice guy. _ Jughead almost wiggled his eyebrows. It was violence that oozed out of Archie. In great, exiting amounts.

“I just don’t get it.” He let out with confusion in his tone, and turned to move. 

Archie walked past him to get to the sink, uncharacterfully uncertain with his step, but mid walk pulled his hand out. In between the leather jacked, chains and bag, it went straight to the crook above his hips and the man pulled. Spinning Jughead fully around, grip so tight it felt close to bursting the other’s kidney. 

Jughead made no sound, didn’t yelp, protest nor even question it. He had pushed the buttons, no reason to wonder why the avatar moved. Bottom of his torso, pit of his stomach turned and twisted. High flowing up and down his body. 

“Will you fucking speak to me like a person for once.” Archie’s voice was low and threatening. Words pushing themselves out from between teeth. Jughead’s sight couldn’t focus. His chin dipped down, eyes jolting around. 

There was a genre of person, who could express genuine anger issues but never get anyone concerned. Archie rode that part, so well it had twisted him into an unrecognizable yet undetected version of himself. (Yes he was righteous, maybe not to god but to himself, and what’s the difference, in the end?) Clear only to ones who knew him better than he did himself. People like Jughead.

_ And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as one dead.  _ His eyes must have looked blasted. He knew archie took candy on the side with the jocks. A woman’s drug, they’d spew, eyes dilated enough to catch the shadows dancing. He was exasperated. Exited beyond sanity.

Irises turn into moons when in love, so that the brain could drown on the sight of its prey. Curtain of his overgrown fringe tips moved as if to reveal the stage, Elsinore Castle on the final day. And he was ophelia if she’d been forgotten in the pond. Bloated and cold from the water, infused with the destructive tendencies of adoration. Jughead looked and drowned immediately.

He had wished for Archie’s stare to be filled with disgust. To be able to pop that flaming and easy emotion like a gummy and savor it. But it wasn’t anything as distant. As simple. It was harder, much more fine dining. It was last remains of their relationship, twisted into unknown form inside Archies head, and heart, during all their years apart. Memory of a deep bond, trying to make sense of itself against the harsh change time had made. Conjoined with hidden sexual desires, pages of a magazine not related to sports, but full of men wearing the gear. Mixed into a completely surprising stir fry. With all his research, all the countless nights following him and stealing his clothes, Jughead had seen the signs, sure, but had taken them as his subjective viewpoint corrupting his data. Signs that Archie loved him.

But there it was, not really desperation, but turmoil, in the distressing blue of Archie’s marketable all american face.

How ugly, how hard. And how tastefully useful to him. He had never had interest to jump and scream of joy, never had a reason. Yet now every abandoned muscle in his body wanted to jump.

And he hadn’t let go. “You’ve gotten quite strong.” Jughead whispered, not breaking his stare. Skipping all warming up, all pretending that he was confused. The grip lightened but stayed. He landed his hand on top of the Archie’s. Which immediately let go of him and returned back to his owner’s side. But the massive wall that he was didn’t move an inch. AC humming in the room got stuck in the circle around them, magnifying in their heads, like the room too was purring and murmuring for them.

Jughead huffed. Letting the start of his next words hum. Lulling. “What is it, really, that you would want me to be Archie?” And he hadn’t dropped the last name out in years. First it had been self perseverance, to distance them from each other for him to gain control of the life he was in. But when he realised Archie took it as cruel, he got addicted to it. But a ship chooses the course most beneficial to itself, even if it meant breaking the helm. 

Archie didn’t answer, just stared. Stupid, circle stare that hid behind it all the madly spinning gears. Over heating lighting his cheeks on fire. Clearly confused why Jughead didn’t push him away. Clearly trying to understand what he was talking about. Implying. Trying to catch something to do that made sense. There must had been a spark when he had spinned him. A clear line of meaty code in his head that told him he should assert himself. Solve his issues with the only way he knew how, confronting without a plan and blind with emotion. But now, here at the culmination of the starting act, he had no clear road to take. And all of that laid completely bare in the fixed stare he gave Jughead. 

Jughead resented people who lived so openly. So free of walls. Not afraid of intruders and exploiters. But at the same time he lived for the control they, without notice and so god damn easily, allowed him to get over them. 

And so, he talked, if he was not going to be talked to.

“You know we aren’t friends anymore.” 

This broke Archie’s stare. Made him pull it away, stuff it back to his pocket, move it to rest on the dark leather in front of him. Jughead always thought shame was the ugliest emotion. Even if Archie had a way of using it in a way that turned it so characterically alluring. Ashamed of things like not being enough, not reaching out. Feeling sinking into his chest heavy, like it was compressed from something scraping the sky. Mending his mind completely lost. 

Just as Jughead had wanted. Push and pull. Spinning someone around until they knew no east or west, good or bad. Vision spinning so much you lost sight of the wolf in the treeline. Almost unable to hold in his eagerness, almost blowing his cover, he pulled Archie’s chin back up. Touch gentle, lying. “But we could be.”

The way Archie flinched away from his touch, the way his eyes glimmered with confused hope and joy over his words. The way his brutally large body felt weak and hollow, like Jughead had carved him empty. Jughead couldn’t speak a word anymore because his mouth was watering over. And luckily he didn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might continue this if people have interest for it but this was mostly an aesthetic project i've lost the mindset for. Like I don't really have any other ideas for future but like more physical abuse and gas lighting and maybe drug trafficking so guess thats more progressive to not birth into this world. 
> 
> Yes the title is about the revelations. bit cringey i know. Sixth seal lets out the worst of the apocalypse at least how ive understood it? so thats the whole idea... Jughead getting to indulge his abusive cravings is a form of beast getting out.  
> Wanted to include more verses from the revelations but i got bored and just wanted to finish it. i have an interest for them tho. they hold so much cool stuff, its like im scrolling someone's deviantart.
> 
> My art tumblr is sohjoa  
> and my main is multapohja966


End file.
